A Guy Named Brook

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Squeak Squeak Clack Clack

As I was biking up the 1.3 mile hill to work yesterday I got down to the last .3 miles. I had just finished working it up a relatively flat incline. It started to get steeper. I have determined that when I get to these hills, rather than fight it up and then have to rest at the top wasting time, I generally get off the bike and walk to keep moving. I then hop back on the bike when it gets a little less steep.

On this day, at this particular hill, I start to dismount. While my leg is still in the air I hear squeak squeak clack clack and out of the corner of my eye I see something passing me. I look over and it is a girl, maybe a younger woman, on an old 1970s, big tire, no gears bike.

Then today, having never seen that girl before except yesterday I encounter her again today. I'm at about the same place, having just dismounted the bike and I begin walking. Then I hear squeak squeak clack clack. I turn and look and that same girl is gaining on me and shortly passes me. This time I notice on her back that she has a flute case strapped to her. Not that there is anything wrong with playing the flute, but the idea of a flute player conjures up images of a perhaps more delicate person and that perceived delicateness just passed me on her old bike. I should also mention that I just purchases a new bike, which is what I was pushing up this hill.

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